Patient Darkness: Brooding City Series Book 2 (19 page)

“Roll that back a bit. Your nephew is secretly a drug addict—whose top pick is a hallucinogenic, I might add—and you just
believed
he could find Bishop if he had a dose of the good stuff? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Keep your voice down,” Brennan warned. “Sound carries really well here.”

“There’s a bit more perspective to this situation than worrying about being overheard.” Sam moved in closer, though, and dropped his voice. “Do you realize you supplied a minor with an illicit substance?” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “So the entire rescue hinged on his
word
, which brings me back to my original point: Why the hell did you believe him?”

Brennan bit his lip and glanced around before answering. “Because,” he whispered, “I’m just like Greg.”

“You’re psychic? Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”

“That I’m crazy?”

“Wow! We have a winner!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Brennan said. “Not exactly. He would take the patch, and it—I don’t know, it unlocked something in him. He had visions that sometimes came true. My own power confirmed it when Greg said he could help, so I gave him the patch. Trust me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, but there wasn’t any other choice. It was either that, or wait to hear the report of her body being found a day or two later.”

“Your power?” Sam started to climb the stairs. “I’m talking to a crazy person. Brennan, you need to get your head looked at, because this joke is—”

“Tell me anything,” Brennan dared him. “Or better yet, I’ll ask questions and you’ll respond, and I will
know
if you are telling me the truth.”

Sam grinned good-humoredly. “Fine. I’ll play this game. Nothing to lose but a few minutes of my time, right? After that, I’m going to the Eternal Tap for an endless lager.”

“If you’re not convinced in five minutes, I’ll pay for us both.”

“Good to see your sense of humor isn’t tied to your sanity.” Sam cleared his throat. “Fine. Ask away.”

“What is your favorite color?”

“Green.”

True
.

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of my Irish heritage.”

False
.

“Why?” Brennan repeated. “The real reason.”

Sam frowned, and then blushed slightly. “I saw a green flash at sunset when I was growing up in California. It was something rare and beautiful, and I guess it stuck with me.”

True.

Brennan nodded. “Good. Why did you lie to me a couple nights ago when you said you were meeting up with Bishop?”

“You’re already assuming I lied then.”

“Fine, I can backtrack. Where did you go that night, after you set up my CopAFeel profile?”

“I went over to Bishop’s with a bottle of white—”

“No, you’re lying. I’ll ask again. Who did you actually meet up with that night?”

“You can’t possibly know that I’m lying,” Sam argued, his frown deeper than ever. “You’re guessing based on some other information.”

“The question still stands.”

“I was meeting another woman, all right? Is that what you want to hear? I met a sexy redhead who rocked my world until the sun came up.”

True.

“I only wish that weren’t true,” Brennan said sadly. “Do you believe me yet?”

“No,” Sam said, and it was the truth. “I love you, partner, but I think you’re absolutely insane.”

Brennan leaned against the handrail and looked up at his friend. They had been close for years, but it was an easy thing for guys to get along. It was another matter entirely to transcend that superficial acquaintanceship into something that would last for years. Brennan realized he was about to discover what that threshold entailed. “How about a game Greg told me about? Two truths and a lie? You tell me two things that are true about you and one lie, and I’ll determine which is the lie.”

“A one-in-three chance that you’ll get it right? Hardly definitive proof that you’re a psychic.”

“I’m not psychic,” Brennan said. “I can just tell when someone is lying to me. Do you want to play?”

Sam shrugged and then nodded. The internal struggle he must have been going through was almost palpable. Brennan saw that deep beneath the armor of suspicion, his best friend desperately wanted to believe in his sanity. There was something more, though. “Go ahead.”

“I need a moment to think.” True to his word, it was less than a minute before he came up with his answer. “I am the youngest of six siblings, my dad rode a motorcycle when he was younger, and I have always wanted a lemur.”

“You don’t have any siblings.”

“Won’t you even consider the other—?”

“Nope, because I know that one was false. I know it the instant you say it.”

“All right, I was going easy on you the first time. I’m
obviously
an only child. I have another round ready.”

“Go for it.”

“I was a big fan of anime as a kid, I have never known true love, and there are only a handful of people I count among my true friends.”

A surge of pity flowed through Brennan as he looked at his friend. “Who do you love?”

“You think it’s the second one?”

“I know it is.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know how, but you’re right.”

“I already told you
how
, you just need to believe me. Who was she?”

“Look, it was a long time ago, and suffice it to say that she isn’t around anymore. I don’t want to talk about it, because nothing is going to bring her back!” His hands balled into fists as he paced up and down several steps. “I don’t know—I don’t believe that you can actually know the truth from lies. This is too much to process.”

“It was a lot for me to digest at first, too.”

“You’re, like, a superhero. My best friend is Fact-Man.”

Brennan grinned. “I really hope that isn’t my moniker. And you don’t need to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t even know if I could,” Sam gasped. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone.”

“Same thing for me.”

Sam seemed to get himself under control, and he took two steps up the stairs before looking back at Brennan. “We’re still going to work the case, right?”

“There’s too much at stake to be taking idiotic orders right now.”

“Hey, that’s my lady you’re talking about,” Sam warned. “Though in this case, I’ll have to agree with you.”

“You do? You don’t still think I’m just being crazy?”

“Hard to believe that you’re a human lie-detector, but even harder to doubt it after what you just did. You are
absolutely
crazy, though.”

“Why is that?”

“When Bishop hears what you’re up to, you are going to get reamed. Still, I’ll be by your side tonight. Even if you’re a freak, you’re still my best friend.”

Truth.

“You told Bishop about Kellogg?”

Sam flinched. “It was unavoidable, partner. She wanted to know what we found out on our own, and this whole thing is bigger than us. Even if she doesn’t want you or me on the team, she’ll still need all the help she can get. She just can’t ask for it.”

Brennan followed his logic. “She knows we’re not going to let this go, but she also can’t officially sanction our involvement. And if we get caught by Pascale and his prototype android, she’ll deny any involvement.”

“She’ll throw us under the bus to keep her position,” Sam said. “Brutal, but necessary. Better us than her, right? No sense in all of us being taken down for insubordination.”

“I understand,” Brennan sighed. “It doesn’t mean I like it, though. Machiavellian political maneuvering was never my strong suit.”

“Nobody ever suggested otherwise.”

“Did you get anything useful out of her in return?”

Sam shook his head. “They didn’t have Kellogg’s name until I gave it to Noel. I bet dinner that she’s gathering all the intel there is on him now, but they won’t have anything actionable for a while.”

“Dammit. Are you able to reach out to any of your private contacts? Maybe one of them can track down some useful information.”

“It’s possible,” Sam said, but he sounded dubious. “But with the full resources of the department and now the Bureau weighing in, I doubt we’ll get a jump on any leads.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll make a few calls, but we probably shouldn’t be seen together. With your current in-fed-station, I’m worried I’ll catch something.”

Brennan smiled. “Fine, I’ll leave first and lure them away. Let me know when you become useful.”

“This is how feelings are hurt.”

The fresher air of the precinct hallway felt good on his face as Brennan left the stifling staircase. He felt even better when he emerged onto the busy sidewalk of afternoon rush hour. It was Friday, and people were taking off early from work. They would be going home and getting ready, either for a crazy night out or a relaxing night in. Brennan looked at the passing faces, none of them grabbing his attention. How did Kellogg select his targets? How could he find the special ones, the ones with powers like Brennan’s?

He felt eyes on him. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Brennan sensed somebody was watching as he crossed the street and let himself into his apartment building. He climbed the stairs two at a time and resisted the impulse to check the mid-landing window. If Pascale already had eyes on him, then that meant fewer people would be watching Sam as he waited to hear back from Bishop.

Brennan’s injured hand fumbled around with the apartment door key before it slid into the lock. He could hear something playing as he entered, but the sound abruptly died off as Greg pushed a button on his keyboard. “You’re home early,” he said quickly. The pullout bed was unfolded, and he wore a plain white t-shirt that looked like it had been put on in a rush—it was backwards and inside-out. A blanket covered his lower half, and the laptop rested over his lap.

“Did I interrupt something?”

Greg cleared his throat. “Um, no.”

“Right.”

The two looked at one another for a moment, and then Brennan turned left into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He decided to give his nephew a moment to compose himself and spare either of them further embarrassment.

His mirrored image looked as haggard as he felt. It was frustrating to be sidelined by both Bishop
and
the FBI, even if the former’s orders were only on paper. His love life was virtually nonexistent, and he wasn’t entirely convinced it didn’t deserve to stay that way. His loyalty to both Sam and Bishop was strained by their recent actions—Sam’s sexual indiscretions and Bishop’s bout of case-blocking—and it seemed that they were all reaching a critical point in their bonds to one another.

Most of all, he resented the fact that each new line on his face brought him one step closer to being the spitting image of his gangster father.

Brennan turned on the tap and let the ice-cold water numb his fingers. He cupped his hands and splashed shallow bowls of water against his face in an attempt to remove the worry lines. The hairs on his back stood on end as the cold shock jolted his system, but the hint of his father’s face still stared back at him from the other side of the glass.

He dried off and opened the door, walking to the kitchen to make dinner. A quick glance confirmed what he suspected would happen; Greg was fully dressed now, and the bed was once again concealed beneath the couch cushions. His nephew darted into the bathroom, and Brennan heard him turn on the shower.

It’ll be a cold one,
he guessed. He turned a dial on the stove and gathered ingredients while he waited for it to heat up. A tray soon held a pine tree-shaped layer of packaged dough for crescent rolls, a jagged arrow of doughy goodness. He quickly browned a quarter pound of ground beef in a pan and mixed it with taco seasoning. When it smelled ready, he lined up the seasoned beef along the middle line of interconnected doughy triangles and sprinkled cheese on top. The tips were grabbed with care and stretched up over the beef, securing it into a meaty bûche de Noël that he placed in the oven to cook.

The simple meal promised future heart attacks, but it was soul food, something which Brennan was desperately craving. Greg was still in the shower, so Brennan took a moment to retrieve his laptop and check his messages. There was no update from Sam yet, and while that wasn’t particularly surprising, he still felt nervous about each minute that was lost not pursuing Kellogg. Still, there was nothing to be gained from worrying over what he couldn’t change.

There was a message from CopAFeel, and Brennan opened it a little too eagerly. Unfortunately, it was just an automated message that listed a few new potential matches to his profile. It seemed like Clara wasn’t keen on setting up a second date after their first had ended in gunmen and vomiting in the storm drain.

And who says I don’t know how to show a girl a good time?
he thought bitterly as he closed the laptop.